


Love You Something Terrible

by Aberial_63



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Reincarnation, Soulmates, tw MAJOR character death, tw alcohol mentions, tw implied sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aberial_63/pseuds/Aberial_63
Summary: It is said that when two souls are born at the exact same moment, they are tied together for the rest of eternity and will be reincarnated each time they die. They are destined to find each other in every life. Isabelle and Clarissa’s bond is like many other soulmates’: profound, beautiful, and so much more than either girl thinks they deserve. However, soulmates are meant to forget each other once they die and rediscover their connection with each new life, and that’s the problem. How is Isabelle supposed to forget if she’s an immortal warlock and will never die?tws: major character death(s), alcohol use, implied/non-graphic sexual content





	Love You Something Terrible

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Team Green in the SH WLW Fic Bingo. It fulfills the prompts "reincarnation" and "angst feast"
> 
> Title is from "Sink In" by Amy Shark

The notion of soulmates was not unfamiliar to Isabelle. Everyone knew the legend that if two souls were born at the same time, an extremely rare occurrence, then they were bound to live multiple lives and find each other in every single one. Isabelle had heard the legend and she thought it was quite a romantic idea, even if she wasn’t sure if it was real. Reincarnation seemed like a stretch and the idea that two souls would always cross paths with one another in each reincarnation seemed unlikely. With a world so large, how could you possibly manage to find the same person more than once if you’re not looking for them? Yes, soulmates were a romantic idea, but Isabelle doubted the logistics.

She doubted it right up until it happened to her.

The first time Isabelle met Clarissa, it was 1859 and Paris was sprinkled with the first snow of the season. Isabelle was running through the park, her teddy bear in one hand and her brother Alec in the other. They were both giggling and kicking the snow with their thick leather boots. Their parents yelled for them to not go too far, but they didn’t listen. They kept running. 

Well, they kept running until a young girl suddenly appeared in their path and Isabelle goes barreling into her before she can slow down. 

The girls tumbled to the ground and Isabelle's hand was torn from her brother's. Isabelle landed on top of the other girl's tiny body. 

"Ow," the redheaded girl groaned. 

Isabelle propped herself up on her hands and looked down at the person beneath her. She had bright green eyes and mussed up red hair tucked beneath a blue cap. Her wool scarf was wrapped around her up to her chin. 

"Hi," Isabelle said quietly. 

The girl smiled up at Isabelle incredulously. 

"Hello. Do you mind getting off me?"

Isabelle scrambled to her feet. She extended her hand and helped the girl stand. 

"Sorry," Isabelle smiled sheepishly. 

"It's okay. I'm excited about the snow too. I've spent the last three years in Portugal and it  _ never  _ snowed there. It was so gloomy. This is much better."

The girl tilted her head back and stuck out her tongue. A snowflake landed on her tongue and the girl's face lit up joyfully. Isabelle thought she was adorable. 

"Izzy, Mama and Papa said you shouldn't talk to strangers," Alec warned from behind her. The girl's expression faltered. 

Isabelle smiled over her shoulder at him before turning back to the girl. He needed to stop caring so much about what Mama and Papa said. 

"I'm Isabelle," she said. 

"I'm Clarissa," the other girl replied, her youthful grin returning. 

"Now, we're not strangers anymore and I can talk to you as much as I want."

Clarissa beamed at her and something in Isabelle's chest told her that this was just the start of her next big adventure. 

She turned out to be absolutely right. The girls spent the next twelve years joined at the hip. They spent everyday running around Isabelle’s estate, playing tag when they were younger and riding horses once they were older. Isabelle traveled with Clarissa’s family during the summer and she saw London and Greece and so many other places she never thought she’d get to see. When the girls were fifteen, they snuck a bottle of Cognac to the roof of Isabelle’s house and Clarissa pointed out all of the constellations. Isabelle couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be than huddled beside Clarissa underneath a warm blanket and staring out into the universe.

Clarissa was the only person Isabelle could spend so much time with and not get sick of. Even Alec, who was practically one half of Isabelle’s heart, would grate on her eventually with his over-protectiveness and his adherence to his parents’ rules. Clarissa never bored Isabelle for even a moment. She was brilliant and hilarious and creative. She was like a little bundle of joy that Isabelle could reach for whenever she really needed to smile.

Most importantly, she never shared Isabelle’s darkest secret. 

A year into their friendship, Isabelle’s powers manifested. It had started as something as simple as making a flower bloom for Clarissa when the leaves were finished falling and she was lamenting the colorless winter to come. Isabelle hadn’t realized she was doing it, but suddenly the ground at Clarissa’s feet had cracked and a small rose had emerged through the dirt. Clarissa had been so excited and Isabelle had found that excitement for the magic addicting. She’d wanted to make Clarissa smile like that all the time. When the girls had tried to explain what Isabelle had done, their parents had laughed about their wild imaginations.

Isabelle and Clarissa later realized that it was probably for the best that no one but them knew about Isabelle’s magic. Being different was dangerous, but they could keep each other safe.

Clarissa proved to Isabelle everyday that she wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her and Isabelle believed her. 

Until one day she didn’t.

It was the day of the Fray’s annual summer solstice ball. The local elite families all gather at Idris Estate to celebrate the coming of the new season. Isabelle couldn't care less about the other guests or the party itself, but she was glad to have an excuse to show off her new diamond necklace and to see Clarissa wearing her new gown. Clarissa was quiet the whole day, but she tried to smile whenever Isabelle met her eyes. She must have been tired from the week of preparation for the night’s festivities. Isabelle hoped she would perk up once the festivities actually began and Isabelle got the chance to dazzle her in her blood red evening gown. Clarissa always raved over her when she got dressed up.

Unfortunately, Clarissa remained detached and solemn for the entire meal. Isabelle perstered her to no end, but all Clarissa could muster was a small quirk of her lips. It felt forced. 

When the dancing finally began, Isabelle took Clarissa’s hand and dragged her into a room off to the side of the ballroom. The music still hummed beneath the crack in the door.

“Isabelle, what are you doing?” Clarissa asked when Isabelle pulled her close.

“I’m dancing with you,” Isabelle replies as she placed her other hand on Clarissa’s waist. “I just wanted some privacy because you know those wretches would judge us for not dancing with one of the many eligible bachelors out there.”

Clarissa frowned, but she made no moves to pull away. If anything, Isabelle thought she felt her lean in closer.

They danced for a few minutes in silence and Isabelle savored it. She’d always loved getting to hold Clarissa like this. Her best friend was beautiful and it felt like the highest honor to be the only one that Clarissa would let stay so near. Isabelle sometimes wondered if she enjoyed it too much, but she rarely let her mind tie itself up in knots over these feelings. She liked it too much to stop and she’d much rather spend her time thinking about Clarissa’s breath on her neck and the way she laughs at all of Isabelle’s jokes. 

“What’s troubling you tonight? You don’t seem like yourself,” Isabelle eventually murmured.

“Nothing, my dear,” Clarissa sighed. A lie. Isabelle knew her too well.

“I don’t think that’s the truth.”

“You won’t like the truth,” Clarissa admitted. Her voice was sad and resigned. 

Isabelle pulled back to gaze into Clarissa’s eyes. To her surprise, they were filled to the brim with unspilled tears.

“Clarissa?” Isabelle asked worriedly.

“I’m getting married, Isabelle.”

Isabelle blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“My parents have arranged for my engagement to some British dignitary’s son. We’re travelling to England next week to make the agreement official and so I can meet him. They want me to stay there for the summer and have the wedding in the fall.”

Isabelle stepped back from Clarissa, the girl’s touch no longer felt like the warm glow of a fireplace. Now, it felt like walking into a forest fire and getting burned alive.

“No, Clarissa, you can’t marry some stranger. That’s not fair. You have to stop it.”

Clarissa grimaced.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried to fix this? Isabelle, I have begged and begged my parents to change their minds, but they are refusing to budge. They need me to preserve our reputation and they believe this is the only way to do it. I don’t want this, you must know that, but I don’t have a choice.”

Isabelle felt the hurt racing through her bones. She felt like she was breaking open.

“Clarissa, I won’t let this happen. I won’t let them do this just to maintain their status. They can’t ruin your life like this. I’ll speak with my parents and they can convince yours to stop this madness. I’ll talk to them myself and I’ll–”

“Isabelle, it won’t work. They have made up their minds.”

“But what about–” Isabelle started, but then bit her tongue. 

She’d almost said too much, said things she barely understands herself. Maybe Clarissa understood what Isabelle wanted to say. Maybe she wanted to say them too. Isabelle almost hoped she’d say them first.

Instead, Clarissa said urgently, “Nothing will change between us.”

Isabelle pursed her lips. She refused to cry, but the sparks that crackled at her fingertips gave her away. She was devastated and her heart felt like it’d been ripped from her chest, but she was also furious. 

“We both know that this changes everything, Clarissa.”

Clarissa’s lip trembled and the first tear escaped. 

“I’m sorry, Isabelle.”

She tried to reach for Isabelle, but Isabelle moved away.

“You may be sorry, but you’re also a coward. You don’t have to let them do this. There is always a way out. There is always a way to fight. You just won’t try. You’d rather let them make your life a living Hell rather than stand up to your parents. You’re too scared to disobey them and it’s going to kill you.”

Clarissa looked as if Isabelle had just slapped her.

“After everything we have been through, that’s what you think of me? You think I’m just giving up? If you knew me at all, Isabelle, you’d know that I’d fight with everything that I am to put an end to this ridiculous affair. But my parents won’t listen to my pleas, so we just have to make this work. We can still see each other all the time and I promise I will never put him before you. It can still be you and me, just like it has always been. Isabelle, you will still be the most important person in my life.”

“Clarissa, don’t be so naive. I can never be the most important person once you’re married.  _ He  _ will be. He’ll have to be. What we are to each other, what we really are to each other, would be gone forever. Is that not worth more of a fight to you? Am  _ I  _ not worth it?”

“Isabelle, you know you are worth everything to me, but I can’t change this. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“You definitely can, Clarissa. You just won’t because you think you can have it all. You think you can have your parents’ approval and a wealthy husband and me all at the same time. You think you can avoid the sacrifice but you can’t. If you go through with this, you will lose me because I don’t think I could bear to watch you get married to a man who will never love you the way that I– the way you deserve to be loved. You can’t have it all.”

They weren’t naming it, still dancing around the real issue, but clearly they both knew what this was really about. It was about the way their hands fit together like they were made to hold on and never let go. It was about the way Clarissa was the only one Isabelle wanted to sleep beside at night. It was about the lingering stares across crowded rooms and the way their hearts sped up when they embraced and the longing they felt when they were apart. 

“Isabelle, please,” Clarissa started, but Isabelle held up a hand. Clarissa wasn’t going to make the choice Isabelle needed her to make, no matter how much she pushed her. 

“No, Clarissa. I’m finished. I won’t stay here for a second longer and watch you destroy everything.”   
  


Isabelle spun on her heel and stormed from the room. 

The ballroom suddenly felt so much louder than it had before. The music felt like it was beating against her. The air was hotter, more suffocating. Her fists were clenched to hide the flames in her palms. Isabelle could feel hundreds of eyes on her, but she didn’t meet any of them. Someone called her name and she kept walking. She just needed to get out of here. She needed room to breathe.

She pushed through the front doors and she made it to the end of the driveway before collapsing to her knees. 

This was never what she’d imagined for her and Clarissa. Deep in her heart, she’d always wanted to spend the rest of her life beside Clarissa, as her best friend at they very least and maybe something more if they let themselves have it. Clarissa and Isabelle should have held on and never let go. They should have faced the world together forever and never let it pull them apart. Isabelle had never wanted to know what it felt like to lose her.

Strong arms wrapped around Isabelle. 

“I’ve got you, Izzy. I’m here,” Alec whispered into her hair. 

She leaned into him. He might’ve been the only one who could sympathize with what she was going through. He knew exactly how it felt to want someone and have the world decide that you weren’t allowed to have them.

Isabelle let herself cry.

“I love her,” Isabelle wept. “I love her and it’s not fair that she has to choose. It’s not fair that I was never really going to be an option in the first place.”

That was not even close to the whole story, but it was enough to help Alec understand. He kissed her temple.

“It’ll be alright, Izzy. I promise. One day, it’ll be alright again”

Isabelle didn’t believe him.

.

Isabelle didn’t see Clarissa again before she died in 1896. In all those years and the decades that followed it, Isabelle never felt peace. There were too many open wounds. 

Being a warlock came with some unexpected and heartbreaking side effects, immortality being the worst. Isabelle was forced to watch as her family all passed away before her. She stayed young while she lost her parents, Max, Jace, and Alec (his death probably hit her the hardest out of all of her family members). She lost Clarissa. If the legend was true and they had soulmates, they’d be reincarnated, but they wouldn’t remember Isabelle anyway. She might never even catch a glimpse of them again.

Isabelle lost a part of her soul when everyone she’d ever known was gone. She’d never felt that kind of loneliness before. Now, Isabelle wasn’t sure what to do with an eternity with only herself and her regrets to keep her company. 

And she had plenty of regrets. Not spending more time with Alec after he went away to university in America. Never fixing her relationship with her parents. Not finding Clarissa again after she moved to London with her husband. Not kissing her when she had the chance.

Isabelle wandered for decades, not really sure where she belonged. Her whole life had been defined by the people she loved, but they were no longer there to guide her. For a while, she’d tried to find something or someone to fill the void, but the grief was still too fresh and every attempt at a new start felt achingly wrong. 

Eventually, Isabelle ended up in New York. The Roaring Twenties and the city noise helped a little to drown out the voices in her head. The people were loud and the drinks were stiff, both of which helped Isabelle forget what she’d left in the past. Europe still felt too proper and it felt too much like her youth. America had a wild, untamed energy to it that was new and Isabelle craved everything but a reminder of her old life. 

With her inheritance, Isabelle didn’t really need a job, but she needed something to take her mind off her memories. She wasn’t nearly skilled enough yet in her magic to make a business out of it and she wasn’t even sure if that was something she could do. She hadn’t met many warlocks, and the ones she had met were occupied in other ways. 

Magnus Bane was one of those warlocks and he had just the solution to Isabelle’s problem. He owned a queer-friendly Brooklyn speakeasy called Pandemonium and was searching for some nightly entertainment. He believed Isabelle was the perfect fit since her parents had insisted on her receiving classical training in piano. Magnus offered her a job, an apartment above Pandemonium, and private magic lessons if she wanted to finally hone her skills. He was much more generous than Isabelle thought he had any reason to be, but it was too sweet of a deal to refuse. 

Isabelle finally started to feel settled in after six months in Brooklyn. It was nice to get some distance from her mourning. She could breathe again.

Of course, on a night when Isabelle had yet to spare a single thought for her past, it came back and slammed into her like a freight train.

Isabelle’s fingers danced over the keys loftily and with practiced ease. It was the same jazzy tune she played every night, a real crowd-pleaser. She could have played it with her eyes closed and tonight that was exactly what she was doing. Isabelle let herself drift on each note and followed their path through the smoke-tinged, boozy air. 

When she opened her eyes for a second, her heart stopped and she hit a sour note that made the audience cringe.

There, sitting at the bar, was Clarissa. 

She looked different. Her bustle had been traded for a navy blue silk sheath dress and what looked like a men’s blazer rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was chopped to a few inches below her chin, less controlled than the fashion of the time, but that was Clarissa, wasn’t it? Before their parting, Isabelle had always known her to be a free spirit that found beauty in the unique. Her eyes were the same. Even with a heavy smudge of eye shadow and the dim lights, Clarissa’s eyes shone like beacons in the night.

Isabelle swallowed harshly and her body went into autopilot as she started playing again. Her hands played while her mind raced. This shouldn’t be possible. Clarissa died over twenty years ago. She couldn’t be standing in Pandemonium and staring at Isabelle in the exact way she had all those years ago. This couldn’t be happening unless– 

Unless the legend had been true all along. Unless Clarissa was her soulmate.

She’d always thought that soulmates were a myth, some old tale lovers made up to aggrandize their love for one another. Even if they were real, Isabelle shouldn’t have had one. She wasn’t special enough to be worthy of that.

Isabelle forced herself not to look over for the rest of her set. If she was lucky, Clarissa wouldn’t be there when she looked back. Isabelle could wave it off as some trick of the light or a hopeful daydream. She wouldn’t have to face the girl she’d fallen in love with and who wouldn’t remember her at all. 

Isabelle had never been lucky so obviously Clarissa was still there when she finally rose from her seat to take a bow. Clarissa clapped enthusiastically along with the rest of the audience, but her eyes had so much more than musical admiration in them as she let them drift up and down Isabelle’s figure. Isabelle shivered as Clarissa’s gaze prickled her skin. 

She knew she shouldn’t go over to the girl. The pain was still all too fresh and Isabelle had no idea how she would react if she got close to her again. Still, Isabelle couldn’t help herself. Clarissa’s hold on her clearly hadn’t faded with time and it was as if Isabelle’s heart had a mind of its own. She couldn’t make it see how absolutely ill-advised it would be to approach her. 

“Hello,” Isabelle said when she reached the bar.

Clarissa smiled.

“Hi there,” Clarissa replied, tilting her head slightly. 

“I’m assuming you enjoyed the show,” Isabelle said.

“Why would you say that, sweetheart?”

“Well, you couldn’t take your eyes off me the whole time.”

Clarissa smirked into her liquor glass as she sipped.

“I was definitely impressed with your playing skills, but I’ll admit that I was more enraptured by you than I was the music.”

Isabelle felt a blush creep up her neck. This Clarissa was much more brazen than her old self had been. Maybe these were the thoughts that she had been hiding before, but she hadn’t said them before because of the rules French society had imposed upon her or because of her parents. Either way, Isabelle felt startlingly high on it. There was a certain thrill to having the attraction out in the open. It was so much more satisfying than hiding it behind a platonic facade.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, but can you really blame me, sweetheart?” Clarissa winked. 

This was dangerous, flirting with someone who she already was in love with, but didn’t know her at all. Her heart still hadn’t mended from the first loss and if she got attached again, who knows if it ever would? How many times would her heart be able to recover before it couldn’t be put back again?

And yet, Isabelle didn’t want to be afraid. There was so much she’d wanted to experience with Clarissa and maybe this was her opportunity. All the mistakes she’d made last time could be remedied with this new Clarissa. Isabelle would kiss her this time. She’d tell her how in love she was, how much she longed to find a home in her arms. She wouldn’t let Clarissa walk away this time.

“I suppose not,” Isabelle chuckled. “I’m Isabelle Lightwood, by the way.”

“Clara Fairchild,” she replied.

_ Clara.  _

Clara was the reincarnation of Clarissa. She was a little rougher around the edges, a little more world-worn than her former self. Clara lacked the innocence that came from Clarissa’s sheltered upbringing. As the night went on, Isabelle noticed the way Clara held herself with more self-assurance than Clarissa ever had, almost as if the world had tested her many times and she’d always come out on top. She had a wild energy to her, like she was hungry for all that life had to offer. Clara still had Clarissa’s warmth though. She was still smart, though it translated as witty retorts and sharp speech rather than poignant daydreams and eloquent turns of phrase. 

Isabelle realized very quickly that she could love Clara just as easily as she’d loved Clarissa. 

And love her she did.

The pair easily slipped into the relationship that Isabelle had always fantasized about. They spent nights at the club together and they spent nights in the apartment above it. They kissed each other like they’d been waiting a century to do so (Isabelle never told her how real that sentiment truly was). They shared private glances in public that only they understood. They danced around the apartment in bare feet every Sunday morning and they always had fresh flowers on their kitchen table. Clara became Isabelle’s refuge when the rest of the world became too frightening to bear. They held each other close through war and through peace. Clara softened under Isabelle’s touch and Isabelle showed her all the ways a heart can be adored. Clara taught Isabelle how to use her grief, her vulnerability, to make herself stronger. Clara healed all of the remaining scars from Isabelle’s first love and any longing for Clarissa was able to be forgotten under Clara’s tender attention.

Isabelle had thought her love for Clarissa had been the most intense form of love she’d ever experienced until she met Clara. Clara didn’t hold herself back like Clarissa had. Denial never tainted what they had and Isabelle never felt like she had to hold back with her. They both knew that this was what they’d been waiting their whole lives for. They were made of divine dichotomies: passion and tranquility, lust and love, excitement and familiarity. They never shied from that and it made their relationship so much more than Isabelle had ever dared to hope for.

Clara and Isabelle lasted for thirty years. Thirty blissful years. Isabelle almost forgot what it felt like to be unhappy. 

Life, as cruel and tragic as it is, made sure to remind her. 

It was the night before their thirty-first anniversary when two police officers showed up at Isabelle's door. They were solemn and straight-lipped. Isabelle knew as soon as she saw them. It was a hit-and-run, they said. They said it was a drunk driver who ran a stop sign and completely ignored the pedestrian crosswalk. Clara had been on her way home from the grocery store. She'd been picking up some strawberries at Isabelle's request because she wanted them for breakfast in the morning. She wasn't even supposed to be out that afternoon. 

At first, it didn't really hit her. Isabelle walked around their apartment in a daze, not feeling much of anything. It wasn't real. Clara was going to walk in and it would just be all some misunderstanding. Those cops didn't know what they were talking about. Clearly it was some other redhead who'd been killed. It wasn't Clara. Isabelle didn't sleep at all that night because she was waiting for her partner to walk back through the door. 

It wasn’t until Magnus came to her door the next day that Isabelle fell apart. She wasn’t sure how he’d found out, but as soon as he stepped inside, Magnus wrapped his arms around her. It started with one tear, then two, then a thousand. Isabelle cried until her throat was raw and her eyes stung. The grief was so much worse this time. She wasn’t mourning an old best friend or an unrealized love affair. No, Isabelle was mourning her lover, her partner in crime, her closest confidant. Her soulmate. 

There was no doubting it anymore. Clara, or Clarissa, was Isabelle’s soulmate. Isabelle would meet her in every life and she’d have to lose her in each one as well. Isabelle would be forced to watch the love of her life die over and over. She would have to hold onto those memories until the end of time. It was the curse of being an immortal with a mortal soulmate. Her love had the luxury of forgetting, but Isabelle never would. Isabelle knew she wouldn’t be able to survive this. She couldn’t give her heart away a thousand times just to have it shattered. She couldn’t let herself get attached to a person she knew she would always lose. 

So she wouldn’t. Isabelle decided then and there that she would never let herself fall for her soulmate again. She wouldn’t adore the next reincarnations from afar like she had with Clarissa. She wouldn’t play piano with their heads against her shoulder or share a home with them like she had with Clara. They couldn’t ruin her if she didn’t let them.

.

The third time Isabelle saw her soulmate, she just kept walking.

.

The fourth and fifth times went about the same as the third. Instead of long, drawn out, and tragic romances, they were eyes connecting on the subway for an instant before darting away or bumping shoulders on the street. Isabelle knew that if she was a mortal, those meetings would have been the start of something beautiful. If Isabelle didn’t remember what it was like to lose her, she would have approached her soulmate. But she did and so she didn’t. 

Isabelle tried to fill her life in other ways. After Clara, she couldn’t return to playing piano. The keys only reminded her of late nights after Pandemonium had closed and serenading Clara with love-sick ballads in the candlelight. Instead, Isabelle turned to potions. Magnus’ instruction had helped Isabelle grow stronger and he taught her all that he knew about brewing potions. She followed in his footsteps and started providing specialty concoctions for wealthy clients. She also performed other magical favors for a price. It was a draining experience sometimes, but her bank account couldn’t complain and Isabelle enjoyed getting to exercise her powers. It helped her feel connected to her magic and that always worked to keep her grounded when her brain felt too loud.

When her business failed to distract her, Isabelle turned to casual intimacy to numb the pain. Sex without strings was something Isabelle needed. It made her feel good when she thought she was on the verge of crumbling. It made her feel wanted when she thought she would be lonely for the rest of her life. It made her feel special when she felt like she had grown faded, muted and colorless after decades of forcing her heart behind armor. 

She’d tried a few times to pursue something more serious. Meliorn had been an exciting year spent travelling the world. Becky had been sweet and Isabelle felt bad that she was incapable of giving the girl the love she deserved. Maia had been the closest Isabelle came to finding something real, but Isabelle had bolted before she got the chance to fall. None of the relationships lasted long. Isabelle knew non-soulmate relationships could be just as beautiful as their cosmic counterpart, but she also knew that they could be just as terrifying. Isabelle wouldn’t risk another goodbye. 

.

The sixth time was a mistake. 

It was on the anniversary of Clara’s death. Isabelle was feeling sad and in desperate need of a drink or twenty. She went to Pandemonium, which was miraculously still running, in the hopes of finding Magnus and dancing away the pain. When she couldn’t find her friend, Isabelle ordered four shots of tequila before melting into the crowd of writhing bodies and losing herself in the beat. 

Once she was finally starting to feel the buzz, Isabelle decided to try and search for Magnus again. He was here practically every night anyway. The bar seemed like a good place to start looking. There was nothing Magnus Bane loved more than a good drink.

Isabelle looked towards the bar and her breath caught in her throat.

She looked so much like Clara, more so than the reincarnations before her had. Her hair was short again; it had been long for the others. Her eye shadow was dark and her lips were a luscious shade of pink. She was wearing a navy blue, deep-v jumpsuit and a black blazer with the sleeves rolled up. The resemblance to when Isabelle first saw Clara was impossible to ignore, especially when this girl was looking at her in the exact same way Clara had on that very first night. 

And just like that night, Isabelle knew it was a bad idea to go over to her. She was well on her way to getting very drunk, she was missing Clara so much she could barely breathe, and this girl wouldn’t understand any of that. It could only hurt Isabelle more if she let this one in and she got attached again. 

Still, Isabelle was weak and she needed something, anything, to make the hurt go away. 

“If you’re going to keep staring at me like that, you’ll have to buy me a drink,” Isabelle said when she reached the girl.

The redhead bit her lip.

“I’ll buy you anything you want, sweetheart.”

Isabelle forced the tears back. Fuck, she sounded so much like Clara. She even used the same pet name for Isabelle.

The girl turned to the bartender and ordered two whiskies straight up. There was one difference. Clara had always been partial to gin.

“I’m Isabelle. What’s your name, gorgeous?” Isabelle asked.

“Claire,” she responded.

Isabelle lowered herself onto a bar stool. It helped to know her name. She wasn’t Clara. She was a person that Isabelle didn’t know at all. This didn’t have to mean anything.

“What brings you to this lovely establishment, Claire?”

Claire sighed and sipped her whiskey.

“I’m looking for a distraction from my shitshow of a life. Lost my job today and my girlfriend dumped me last week. I guess I was hoping there might be something here to take my mind off it for a while. Or someone.”

Her eyes flicked meaningfully down Isabelle’s body.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I think you might have come to the right place.”

“Oh, really?” Claire asked, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

“Indeed. I happen to be in need of a distraction myself. Feels a little bit like fate for us to meet, don’t you agree?”

Claire smiled.

“Maybe so.”

They talked for a while after that and again Isabelle can’t help but make comparisons between the three versions she’s come into contact with. Claire, like Clara, was nowhere near as naive as Clarissa, but there was something youthful about the conflict Isabelle sensed in her. Claire had an air of confidence like Clara’s, but it didn’t feel real. Claire seemed like she was putting on a show, like she was pretending to be proud and sure when all she really felt was broken. She would have these moments where she would fall quiet and her eyes would go sad. Isabelle recognized the dejected confusion in them because she’d felt it herself. Claire had no clue who she was inside and she tried to make up for the mayhem with bravado and charm. Isabelle was well-acquainted with that particular kind of performance. Maybe that was part of why Isabelle was so attracted to Claire: they were both messed up and it felt like Claire was the only one who wouldn’t care about Isabelle’s own personal dysfunction.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Isabelle suggested half an hour later.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Claire drawled.

That’s how they ended up stumbling through Claire’s doorway, tugging at each other’s clothes and kissing any inch of bare skin they could find. Claire touched her like she was the answer to all of her questions. It was needy and unrelenting and really, really fucking hot. Isabelle felt her pulse pounding in her chest because this was exactly what she’d been looking for all these long years. Claire was all-consuming. She knew exactly how to override all of Isabelle’s senses and make everything become her. 

They somehow managed to make it back to Claire’s bedroom and Isabelle decided that it was her turn to make Claire lose everything but her. She laid her back against the pillows and settled on the girl’s hips. The desire was so plain on Claire’s face that it made Isabelle’s heart skip a beat. She dove into another kiss, tangling her fingers in Claire’s hair. Claire moaned into it as she fiddled with Isabelle’s zipper.

It wasn’t long before their clothes were shed and they guided each other to heaven. Isabelle hadn’t had a lover absolutely wreck her like that in a long time. It felt like years before she eventually came down from the high and it seemed the same way for Claire. She was panting, but her mouth was curved into the most genuine smile she’d worn all night. 

“You’re something else, sweetheart,” Claire sighed as she laced their fingers together.

Suddenly, it was like ice water had been dumped on Isabelle.

_ Sweetheart. _

_ Clara.  _

Isabelle hadn’t kept her guard up and now all of the pain flooded into her heart as she remembered what it was she’d been trying to forget. Clara’s death. 

And, as is the nature of pain, it forced every ounce of itself up to the surface all at once, even pain that she’d thought she’d moved on from. Pain like losing Clarissa. 

These women, so different yet so knotted together inside Isabelle, were what she’d devoted her entire soul to and somehow this felt like a betrayal. Using Claire, a literal reincarnation of them, to try to forget them felt like blasphemy of the worst degree. How dare Isabelle sully their shared soul like this, like it was some cheap entertainment to pull her out of her mourning? Like it could be tossed aside in the morning as if it were an unloved plaything? It was disrespectful to all three of them and to the soulmate bond Isabelle had with them.

Isabelle leaped from the bed and hastily pulled on her discarded dress. She ignored when Claire asked her what was going on and gathered the rest of her things. Poor Claire would never understand how wrong what they’d just done was, how Isabelle had just desecrated her. 

“I’m sorry,” Isabelle whispered before running out of the apartment and slamming the door behind her.

.

Isabelle spent the next hundred years trying to forget that night and the guilt it aroused in her. She dove into her work and she barely stopped to take a rest for the entire time. It was the only way Isabelle could find to quiet the noise in her mind. She didn't think about Clarissa or Clara or Claire when she was making sleeping potions for the werewolf from Manhattan or casting protection charms on a local government leaders. When she didn't have clients, Isabelle spent her time reading every spellbook she could get her hands on and copying down the ones she thought she could use. Most nights, Isabelle didn't make it to bed before three a.m.. She was worn thin and exhausted, but it helped her sleep when she finally dragged herself to her bed.

Isabelle wasn't sure how other immortals survived this. How did they love and lose pretty much everyone in their life? How did they get up in the morning without feeling like grief was pushing them into the ground? There must've been something wrong with Isabelle because she truly couldn't figure out how to cope with this. 

Magnus was worried about her. Isabelle knew that when he dropped by unexpectedly with Thai food and wine, he was trying to force her into taking a break. He wanted to make sure she was doing okay and not pushing herself too far. She definitely was, but she tried not to let it show. She didn't want her best friend to be constantly thinking about her own well being when he needed to put his attention into his own life and affairs. Magnus had Pandemonium and his own clients to take care of. He shouldn't waste his time fretting over Isabelle. She usually waved away his concern and tried her best to placate him with empty reassurances. 

Magnus wasn’t easily dissuaded, though. He thought that if Isabelle wasn’t going to pursue relationships with the reincarnations, then she should try to move on. He said that she needed to let love back into her life again if she was ever going to heal. She needed someone to remind her that the fall didn’t always hurt, that not everyone was going to leave her in pieces. Isabelle argued that immortals would always be left; it was impossible to keep someone forever when you never died.

Of course, he had an answer to that as well: date an immortal. In fact, he even had one in mind for Isabelle.

Isabelle didn’t have the heart to say no to him. She would go on one date with this warlock friend of his and she’d see if there was anything there. If there wasn’t, Isabelle could draw back and maybe Magnus would let her be for the next millennia or so.

It was a cool evening when Isabelle walked into the restaurant. It was a nice little Italian place by the water and the smell of fresh herbs floated through the air.

She approached the host.

“Hello, I believe I have a reservation. Probably under the name Bane?”

The host smiled.

“Ah, yes. Mr. Bane has booked a private room for you. The other guest has already arrived. Follow me.”

Isabelle walked behind the host as he led her to a room in the back. She was going to kill Magnus for going to all this trouble for a date that would most likely go nowhere.

When Isabelle entered the room, she decided she was definitely going to kill him.

There she was. The face that had haunted her for centuries. The one who would never let Isabelle find peace.

She stood from her seat, a friendly smile gracing her lips. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

“Hi, you must be Isabelle. Magnus has told me so much about you. I’m Clary.”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Isabelle asked, gritting her teeth to keep her emotions in check. 

“I’m sorry?” Clary said, her smile faltering.

“Why, of all people, would Magnus send  _ you?  _ Why would he be that cruel?”

Clary stepped away from the table and towards Isabelle. Her strides were wary, like she was afraid any sudden movements would startle Isabelle.

“Have I done something to offend you? I don’t know how I could, considering we’ve never met before, but if I have then I’m sorry.”

Isabelle felt the tears spring up in her eyes.

“That’s the thing, Clary. We’ve met before. We’ve had, if I’ve been keeping count correctly, seven first meetings now and each one tears me apart a little more than the last.”

“I don’t understand,” Clary said.

Isabelle laughed bitterly. Her magic popped at her fingertips.

“Of course you don’t. You wouldn’t remember any of it. You were always lucky that way. You always got to forget. That’s the only thing I ever hated you for.”

Clary shook her head.

“Please, Isabelle, tell me what you mean. I don’t want to be responsible for what you’re going through if I can fix it. How do we know each other? Why don’t I know you like you clearly know me?”

Isabelle felt her face crumple and the tears started to fall. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to say Clara’s name or put words to every way she’d worshiped Clarissa. She didn’t want to speak about Claire and the way Isabelle had used her.

“I can’t talk about it, Clary. It’s too painful. I’m sorry. I should go. This was a mistake.”

Isabelle turned to leave, but Clary grabbed her arm and pulled her so they were face-to-face.

“Isabelle, please,” Clary whispered.

Isabelle flashed back to when Clarissa had said those exact same words to her, her final words to Isabelle. 

Isabelle lost control of her magic at the way the memories surged up under her skin. It flowed into Clary and Isabelle couldn’t hold back the images in her own head that transferred to Clary.

_ Chasing Clarissa around the Arc de Triomphe. Making snow angels in Isabelle’s front lawn. _

_ Clara’s head in her lap, sound asleep and Isabelle’s fingers brushing through her hair. Singing drunkenly in Pandemonium and laughing so hard they nearly fell from the stage.  _

_ Claire’s eyes flicking to Isabelle’s lips. Isabelle tracing the curves of her face with awestruck fingertips. _

_ Clarissa crying as Isabelle walked away. _

_ The two policemen at Isabelle’s door. _

_ Claire calling after her and Isabelle refusing to look back. _

Clary gasped and jerked away from Isabelle. Her breathing was heavy and tears gleamed in her eyes. She looked horrified.

“Now you know,” Isabelle murmured, her voice cracking. 

“We’re soulmates?” Clary asked roughly.

Isabelle nodded sadly. 

“And you’re immortal so you never got to die and forget me like I forgot you.”

Another nod.

“Oh, Isabelle,” Clary sighed before pulling Isabelle into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this alone.”

Isabelle melted into her. She sobbed for all she’d lost, but also out of relief. She hadn’t been held like this in a long time, like she could fall apart but she could still be put back together again. Clary embraced her like she could keep Isabelle whole if she just squeezed her tight enough. Maybe she could.

“It’s alright, my love. I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

Isabelle pulled back.

“What?” she sniffled.

Clary smiled and wiped Isabelle’s tears away with her thumb.

“I’m not going anywhere. Apparently, I’ve loved you many times in the past and I don’t doubt that I can do it again now. In this life, I was born as a warlock, just like you. You won’t lose me again, Isabelle. Never again.”

Isabelle’s lips trembled, but a hesitant smile formed on them. Clary was immortal now too. She wasn’t going to leave. 

“Do you mean that?” Isabelle asked.

“I mean, we’ll have to go on this date first, but yeah. You’re my soulmate, Isabelle. How could I ever walk away?”

Isabelle laughed and, as watery and shaky as it was, it felt more genuine than it had in decades. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Isabelle admitted, reaching out to tuck Clary’s hair behind her ear.

Clary beamed and leaned into Isabelle’s touch.

“Well, why don’t you tell me over some wine and fancy Italian bread?”

“I think I’d like that.”

Clary and Isabelle talked for hours that night. Isabelle told Clary everything about her past, about all of the trauma but also all of the good things too. Clary laughed about Clarissa and Isabelle’s childhood antics and grinned upon hearing of Clara’s open defiance of gender roles and who society told her she had to be. She forgave Isabelle for what happened with Claire. Isabelle listened to Clary as she spoke of moving to Brooklyn with powers she could hardly control but was determined to use for good. She was training to be a healer with Catarina, one of Magnus’ close friends. 

Clary was almost a combination of her previous reincarnations, like their lives had all stuck with her and she’d learned from them without even knowing it. She was bright and always smiled widely like Clarissa had. She recognized that she didn’t know everything about herself just as Claire had, but she had Clara’s fortitude so it didn’t frighten her. She was different from them as well. Clary felt more settled in her skin than the others had. She felt solid and more content with the world. 

That night was just the start of a long journey towards Isabelle’s heart mending itself back together, but she didn’t doubt that one day she would make it. With Clary by her side, Isabelle knew she would let go of all the heartbreak and fear that had clung to her soul for years. 

With Clary, Isabelle knew she’d find a way to be happy again. 


End file.
